


Leave Your Mark

by Rabentochter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Dead People, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, God Loki, Human Sacrifice, I mean there probably even wasn't a Stockholm at that time but you know, Kidnapping, Knives, M/M, Mortal on Asgard, Real God Loki, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Scarification, Slavery, Tattoos, Thors a bit of an ass, Worship, no Stockholm Syndrome, okay there was a Stockholm at the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: Anthony was out at night when he got captured by Vikings. Because he doesn't bow to the rules and tries to escape, he is to be sacrificed to a god of his choice.





	Leave Your Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AMidnightDreary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMidnightDreary/gifts), [NamelesslyNightlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/gifts), [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/gifts).



> This was supposed to be up two days ago because deep in my heart I am a hobbit but Wednesday came too fast and was too fast gone as well. 
> 
> This is for you three. You're absolutely awesome, I love you all and I _hope_ you enjoy this aldjfalkdjf ♥♥♥
> 
> Also, thank you to **buying_the_space_farm** again for betaing this :D ♥

Anthony was out at night, looking at the stars and drawing them on his map when he got captured. He was sitting on some log, a candle sent him barely enough light to see what he was doing when they attacked him from behind. He was surprised he didn’t hear them coming, seeing that Vikings usually weren’t the quietest people. The opposite was the case on most days.

His head still hurt from when he hit the ground surprised and his hands were bound a bit too tight to be comfortable.

His maps were thrown  into the bushes, his candle stuffed in some bag. It was a sad thing that they considered the candle of more importance than his work of genius –

Maybe they would someday need to be able to read the stars right, to find their way home and couldn’t _remember_ where what star was, as they changed their position over the course of a year. Anthony had always been fascinated by that concept, spending many nights as kid already outside and waited for new stars to appear in the night sky and bidding the others ‘farewell’ until they’d meet again next year.

His captors dragged him to their village and to their leader, telling him, he’d make a pretty slave and that they had found him _wandering aimlessly_ on the fields. It was a lie, and Anthony didn’t hesitate to tell them so.

He got told to hush and stay quiet, as it was expected of a slave.

Enraged, he spat in the leader’s face.

And before he came to enjoy his moment of triumph, they backhanded him and put him to the stable, telling him to milk the cows. Anthony didn’t milk the cows. Instead he went to sleep and woke up to angry yelling hours later.

Days went by like this. He got quiet orders, angry orders, all kinds of them, but Anthony refused to act on it. Or, followed them just so it was satisfying enough but the signs of his rebellion were obvious enough to see. No one never wanted to be a slave, and simply because he was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time was a slap in the face. A few times he tried to run away and he didn’t understand why they _bothered_ to chase him – he wasn’t a good slave. Still, they did it and he got put into his position again.

He _knew_ his acting out had to have consequences, somewhere down the line. Nonetheless, to hear they wanted to _sacrifice_ him was a bit of a shock.

“Can I choose who I get sacrificed to?” He asked, feeling numbness spreading through his limbs. Don’t panic, he tried to calm himself down, it’s a just a small scarification, nothing to worry about. He started to laugh at himself inside of his head. He couldn’t believe that he honest to Odin thought that.

The leader shrugged. “It is your life, seems fair to offer you the choice of which god you want to please.” _For us_ , Tony added in his head and bit his lip, barely catching the words from slipping out.

His mind started to wander, going through all the gods he knew of. There was of course Odin, Thor, mighty warriors and gods people always wanted to please. But choosing one of them seemed wrong.

There were Kvasir, Idunn, Sjofn, Skadi – all useful gods. And gods Anthony occasionally prayed to (when he didn’t forget it over his studies).

But he refused to be sacrificed to those brutes, he had his pride after all.

It was when his mind wandered to gods that were seldom needed that he thought of _Loki_. The trickster god, lord and master over mischief and chaos –

Nobody _wanted_ those things.

A smirk spread over Anthony’s face when he looked up and said: “Loki.”

There was silence.

And Anthony felt _smug_ ; they couldn’t sacrifice him to another, they had promised he could choose the god. “I want to be sacrificed to Loki,” he repeated loudly and there was the anger in the leader’s eyes he had hoped to see.

“Loki,” the leader said through gritted teeth and his hands balled to fist. Anthony was very satisfied with himself in that moment. “Then Loki it shall be. Bathe and prepare him!” and with that Anthony got pulled away to the bathing pools.

While he washed all the grime from his body, he felt watched. There was no one there yet Anthony could swear there were eyes, searing holes into his body, analyzing his every move. He scolded himself for being too ridiculous. Still, the feeling stayed and only intensified with the time.

They painted Loki’s name on his body, directly over his heart. For a moment Anthony thought they glowed green and gold, then they were black again. He wondered if it was his mind running wild, not accepting he was about to die or whether it was Loki, watching the preparations of the ceremony.

It was a madness.

It was already dark when they went outside and when he looked up to the sky, he knew _why_ they had chosen the night to kill him.

Northern Lights danced across the sky, in different green hues, intercepted by goldish tones. It was beautiful. And the night sky seemed to scream ‘Loki’ with its colours. It was as if the gods either wanted to mock or comfort him. Northern Lights had always been a source of fascination for him, he always wanted to know _where_ they came from or if it really were pretty pictures sent by the gods to make their mortals happy with them.

Anthony wanted to go back to his maps, didn’t want to be led outside to some huge rock he was supposed to be sacrificed on. His fingers trembled and he wasn’t sure how he had managed to get on the rock, his knees felt so weak.

Still, there was a burning rage in him, so hot no pretty sky could soothe him, so he grinned at his captors as fiercely as he could. A Howardson didn’t fear death, he looked death in the eyes and said “Hope the mead tastes good in Valhalla” and that was it.

When the knife was about to slit his throat open, he felt the cold metal dig into his skin, there was a beam in the Vikings’ midst, dazzling green and gold like the dancing sky above them and Anthony could swear there was someone new.

“Mortals,” he heard the man saying, clad in an armour that looked not from this world, flowing black hair and green eyes, that seemed to focus on Anthony. He gulped. The knife dug deeper in his skin. He felt some of his blood dripping down his throat, slowly. It was warm.

The Northern Lights turned purple and red, dancing more angrily than before.

Then Anthony couldn’t say _exactly_ what happened. He saw it, but he didn’t fully comprehend it.

It seemed like the man _glowed_ for a moment and then the Vikings around him dropped to the ground and an iron taste filled the air, making Anthony swallow. The disbelief only grew when more and more man fell to ground, holding hands to their neck and he could see how a red puddle started to spread out.

There were cold, pale hands on his face, stroking softly over his cheek.

“What?” Anthony asked with quivering voice as even the man behind him dropped to the floor. There wasn’t a single person standing anymore.

“You’re _mine_ ,” the man growled and touched the cut on Anthony’s throat gently. It burned and then it was gone again. “And I don’t want to see you hurt.” A smile, soft and open and it made Anthony want to trust this stranger. “And no one is _allowed_ to hurt you.” The smile turned into a dangerous grin – all teeth, and alarming.

Yet Anthony found himself fascinated by those green eyes, the cold touches on his face and felt weirdly assured he was _safe_.

“Who are you?” he asked, although suspicion was growing in his heart and the runes above it seemed to pull him towards his saviour.

“I am Loki,” was the reply he got. “Although you must have already known that.” A cold hand slipped from his face and covered the runes painted over his chest. Anthony’s heart beat faster than a horse at a full gallop. Anthony felt the runes burn for a moment, it got warmer and he sagged forward, feeling exhausted all of sudden.

“Loki,” he mumbled into the armour and felt the God shudder around him.

The runes hurt, as if they were burning their way into his skin, branding him as Loki’s forever. It started to feel good, the pain, making him groan slightly and he held onto the armour with his bound hands as much as he could, afraid the sensations flooding through him might wash him away; away from his saviour and his God, over to the bloodied bodies, painting him red.

“My Loki,” he whispered and repeated it, again and again, a prayer, getting more and more intent as he repeated his words.

He felt Loki’s hands running through his hair, tugging at some strands softly while the other stroked over his bare body, _claiming_ him as Loki’s and his mind was singing until the burn calmed down enough to _hear_ the words that got whispered in his ear.

It were words of assurance, tender and compassionate, promises of more gentleness and protection. Anthony felt himself agreeing to all to them, longing for them all to come true, to stay with Loki, to be at his side for as long his legs would carry him. And as he thought those words, for he couldn’t speak any longer, so captivated was he by the sheer presence of Loki, his chains fell off.

Anthony felt his eyelids drop, heaviness settling in his limbs. He gave a confused, inquiring noise, closer to a ‘mhh?’ than anything else. “Shh,” Loki said softly and Anthony let himself fall asleep, trusting the God with himself.

 

~*~

 

He opened his eyes slowly. The light was dimmed and he heard a fire crackle somewhere. He lay on something soft, it was comfortable and tempted Anthony to close his eyes once more. But he couldn’t. He yawned, stretched and tried to _understand_ what he was seeing.

He was in a room (normal). But it was bigger than his home had been, and there were _multiple_ doors, the fire wasn’t in the middle of the room instead it was at one end of it, and the walls were _decorated_ , for he couldn’t see the wooden slats anymore; the walls were sleek and painted in various shades of green, without being _too green_.

At least there was still fur on the bed. Just … it was too big to be from one animal and it felt soft on his skin, like feather-light touches dancing on his body.

He sat up slowly, the fur slipped from him. He shivered when it tickled him just so.  

“Loki?” he asked into the room. Where was the god?  

 

There was no answer for a while and Anthony eventually slipped out of the bed, noticing he wore some new pants that weren’t his own – they felt slack around his legs and _good_. He wasn’t used to pants feeling so good against his skin.

Curiously he pulled the curtain from the window aside and _gaped_. The sun was shining, and he could see the ocean glittering in the distance, flowers of all kinds bloomed in what Anthony could only assume was a garden and people, clad in various colours ran about.

This was how Anthony had pictured the home of gods to be like. Golden, vast, voluptuous and grand in every detail.

 

“Welcome to Asgard.”

 

Anthony whipped around. Loki was standing in the middle of the room, clad in a simple dark green tunic and smiled at him. All Anthony wanted to do, was to go to him, wrap his arms around Loki, breathe his smell in and feel what he felt last night.

“Loki,” he whispered, took a step forward, then stopped. He-, he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch, he wasn’t in danger anymore, would it even be welcomed at this point?

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Loki spoke with tenderness in his voice and came over to him, wrapped Anthony in his arms. All doubts Anthony had collected in his short time alone left hurriedly and he enjoyed being in Loki’s arms once more. He felt shielded from everything here and the runes above his heart prickled gently.

Anthony knew it was wrong to be happy. Loki more or less dragged him off to Asgard, the gods’ home without asking him explicitly. But he didn’t care. Yesterday, he was sentenced to die, to shed his blood for exact the god who had saved him. He’d rather be _his_ slave than to be one of the men’s yesterday.

Carefully he looked up to Loki, who watched him with a fond smile curling on his lips. “What are your plans with me?”

 

“Curious, Anthony?”

 

“That as well.”

Loki let go of him and pointed towards a comfortable looking chair. “Let’s sit down and talk about what your future will entail.”

 

They sat down and Anthony tried not to show how _giddy_ he was, and how excited over some simple furniture, but sitting on this chair was the best thing so far. It was called a couch, he learned later on. Anthony loved it.

 

“What did you do on Midgard?” Loki asked him simply. “Were you a fighter? A scholar? A cook, writer?”

“I think a scholar would fit the best,” Anthony replied, waiting only to hear from Loki a laugh, claiming, no true Norse man would _ever_ prefer books over a weapon. That was what his clan had told him. They all lived there with the mindset that everybody _had_ to be a Viking and if you couldn’t become one, then you had to forge weapons. Even a farmer could leave to go on raids when their crops weren’t in season. But Anthony had always preferred to stay with his maps, to build and experiment in his workshop and see what he could come up with next.

They sat there and talked, and Anthony felt good in Loki’s company. It was as if he belonged here in this rooms, to Loki’s side.

 

Whenever Loki’s hands found their way to the runes over his heart, Anthony nearly purred in delight, it made him feel connected to his god more than anything else and he whispered Loki’s name for him to hear in his neck. He loved seeing Loki’s eyes glow up in their intense green and tendrils of Loki’s magic wrapped around him, pulled him in even more to Loki. He was Loki’s as much as Loki was his.

No other bore Loki’s runes and Anthony took pride in the fact that he was the only one.

The servants when they brought them food still threw them curious glances but Anthony had taken to ignoring them. It wasn’t even deliberately. They just came in, quiet like mouse, put the tray with food down on one table and left again. Anthony was the most time wrapped up in talking to Loki about magic (seidr, as Loki called it with a smile) or talked about science.

He was in Valhalla. Finally someone who loved talking facts and evidences, had even more insight in things Anthony had never heard of before and didn’t call everything humbug.

They spent days like that.

 

Then Anthony started to feel _stuck_ . He only ever was in Loki’s rooms and as grand as they might be, they started to feel _small_ , and he didn’t like it there anymore.

That was a reason why he had gone out at night and mapped stars. Because he felt free and not like a caged animal.

He started to snap at Loki and behaved like the greatest brat that ever was, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was caught in here.

 

“I demand to be let out!” he spit at Loki one day, all riled up.

“Out?” Loki repeated and closed the book gently.

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure if I want you out,” Loki mused, putting the book aside. “Don’t you know that there are others who might not be as nice as I am?”

Anthony was ready to spit fire. “You will let me outside, Loki.”

 

“Will I?”

And that bastard grinned at him as if this was the funniest game in history. Anthony felt so distanced from Loki, he couldn’t bear it. So he embraced the anger, slumbering inside of him, to suffocate the part in him that yearned for soft touches and gentle reassurances.

“I don’t know if I can protect you out there.”

 

“And I don’t know how I can survive being locked in a room!” he nearly yelled that sentence and marched over to the door. “Open. Now.” He glared at Loki until he felt the door handle give in and he walked outside.

He was outside. Yes, he only was on a corridor but he was outside in a more stimulating environment than Loki’s rooms were.

“Do you want to stay there all day?” Loki’s amused voice broke him out of his thoughts. A hand between his shoulder blades pressed him forward. “We have things to see after all.”

“Oh, so now _Sir_ wants to go outside?” Anthony gritted out.

 

Funnily enough it felt like Loki was only indulging him and was more amused by Anthony’s antics than not. He wanted to get a rise out of Loki and make him – not explode but make him angry so Anthony could see _his_ Loki was still in there, too.

He remembered the cold hands on his face and the air smelling of iron, all dead because of him. And he wanted to know that he didn’t dream it up – Loki was still able to protect him and it was a weird thought, an irrational one, Anthony knew that but he couldn’t help himself. He also enjoyed it perhaps a bit too much.

The other gods they had met so far were nice enough, yes, but barely worth talking about.

Anthony’s started to feel so _fed up_ , he didn’t want to talk to Loki anymore. Really, having to bear Loki’s company … it felt wrong and he didn’t know why it felt wrong, it simply was. So he glared at Loki, denied him (and himself) soothing contact for he did not want _that_.

Yes, he was mad. He was a mortal on Asgard, the realm of gods and instead of being thankful and loving Loki with every fibre of his being for his saving attempt, he continued to be rude, sassy and threw back everything Loki offered to him in his face.

Why wouldn’t Loki say something on his behaviour?

 

Anthony screamed at night in his pillow, ignoring the burn of his runes that wanted Loki on them and cursed. He considered for a few minutes to go back to how they were, sweet and loving, but he found he did not want to.

So they were stuck with going outside each day, seeing and admiring the wonders of Asgard and talking back at Loki.

Who took it all in with a smile on his face. And when Anthony caught Loki balling his fists and excitement started to spread through him, then Loki reined himself in again and Anthony was left with the soft god he felt like was a stranger to him.

 

~*~

 

He had learned from Loki that he wasn’t a brother of Odin, he was his _son_ instead and Thor was _his brother_.

Thor.

Anthony didn’t consider himself as particularly religious but Thor?

He had never minded praying to Thor and sacrificing mead, pork and vegetable to him. Thor was _the_ god of all gods, he was the one who helped him and other Norse men out on Earth, Thor was the one who _protected_ them all.

Secretly he had been looking forward to the day he met Thor.

Now Anthony wished he had never.

 

Thor was _loud_ , he thundered more than he spoke in a normal voice and he behaved like the greatest douchebag Anthony ever had the doubtful pleasure of meeting.

“A mortal? Brother, that’s what keeping you so occupied? A mere mortal?”

Anthony’s jaw dropped open, hearing that. That was not how he had pictured Thor to be. And that was not the last he heard of Thor.

He was mean, insulted and offended Anthony and his people at every given opportunity. The other gods laughed at every crude joke Thor made and slowly, slowly Anthony started to understand what Loki had meant with “ _I don’t know if I can protect you out there.”_

Because yes, Loki might be able to save him from every physical harm with his knives and his seidr, but Loki couldn’t do anything against Thor’s dismissive remarks, the mocking laughter that rang through the halls and the other gods that feasted on his pain.

 

They walked back to Loki’s room in silence.

 

Their encounter with Thor had left Anthony shaken and left him with strange thoughts.

 

If Thor, Earth’s supposedly protector behaved like that –

 

That was … not okay. It also wasn’t good and Anthony felt _cheated_.

 

When they reached Loki’s rooms, he walked only a few steps forward, then waited for his god to come in.

Loki raised a curious brow, seeing him standing there like an idiot. Because that was exactly what Anthony was. An idiot.

 

Why did he want that blood-thirsty self of Loki? When Loki only showed him his gentle side, that did not judge Anthony for what he did and wanted to do in his time. Loki was there to support him with finding the right books, gave him more paper and pens to write down his thoughts … Why had he been so stupid?

 

“Loki,” he started, voice oddly small and pained. “I am sorry.”

“What for?”

“For my behaviour,” Anthony said and took Loki’s hand into his own. “I behaved like the biggest idiot and wanted to _hurt_ you, just so you-“ he broke off, not knowing how to explain how he felt and what he wanted.

 

“The biggest idiot is my brother Thor,” Loki replied and winked at him. “That spot has been taken for decades now, I’m sorry.”

Anthony snorted, squeezed the hands in his gently. Loki squeezed back, then pulled him into his arms.

Anthony _melted_ . This was where he belonged to. In Loki’s arms. He still smelled as good as Anthony remembered him too, all of pine and energy, it was what made him _Loki_. He was safe here.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, tugging at Loki’s tunic.

“You are forgiven,” Loki replied and that was it.

 

~*~

 

That night Anthony they sat on the couch again, reading books and at some point, Anthony laid down on Loki’s lap, claiming it was just more comfortable here than on some pillow and enjoyed the closeness again.

When Loki’s hand eventually found its way back to the runes over his heart, Anthony felt _content_. The grin that broke out over his face was probably way too telling but he found, he didn’t care enough to dim it. He had his Loki again. He was never gone as Anthony had feared him to be, he was just taking care of him and spoiling him.

It was perfect.

But while they continued to build up their friendship and Anthony thought about ways he could have a workshop here on Asgard, he realised how other gods treated Loki. He barely saw any smiles directed toward him or heard a good word spoken about the second prince of Asgard. It was more likely that a servant grunted a short “Good morning, your majesty,” than seeing another god treat Loki respectfully.

 

It wondered Anthony how astonished he was upon learning that.

 

There had been a reason why he chose _Loki_ as the god he wanted to be sacrificed to – nobody needed Loki.

In their lore, Loki was a trickster, the embodiment of pure chaos and only second to monsters. They told another gleefully of Loki, who lived as milkmaid on Earth, damned to a mortal form, they mocked him for birthing a foal with eight legs and just slandered his name whenever they could.

The gods were not so different to them.

 

Just the difference was that Loki _hadn’t_ birthed an eight-legged horse, he didn’t plan on bringing Ragnarök down on them all and he most certainly wasn’t a monster. If anything, he was a sweet man, who’d rather spend time with Anthony and talk about books then reach to one of his countless daggers or use his seidr.

Anthony made a point out of talking to Loki even _more_.

He asked him countless questions, tried and succeeded in making Loki laugh _more_ and Anthony felt good.

Because he knew how it was like to not to be picked first, or not be loved, he knew how it felt thanks to his old home.

 

His runes seemed to tingle almost every day now. But always strongly when Loki touched them and it was an addictive sensation. And Anthony wondered if at this point whether the runes meant to tell him something.

“I can’t say,” Loki said when Anthony asked him about them. Loki shrugged and smiled awkwardly. “It’s not like anybody else ever wore my runes, Anthony. You are the first to do so.”

“I don’t know whether to be proud of that or to be sad,” Anthony replied and stared at his god intently.

 

“Why would you be sad?”

“Because it’s unfair,” Anthony simply stated. “We praise Thor for protecting us but he actually doesn’t do _anything_ . Instead, he sits here, wields his hammer and _loathes_ us.”

“He doesn’t loathe you, Anthony.” Loki sat down on the couch, took one of the weird purple fruits in his hands. “It’s more … he considers you as ants and he is the boot. You are amusing, yes, and you sacrifice to him much, he appreciates that. But,” Loki shrugged. “In the end you are for him nothing more than ants, small and barely noticeable.”

“If that was meant to make me feel better, I assure you, it _doesn’t_.”

“ _I_ don’t think like that about you,” Loki argued amused.

“You better not.” Anthony sighed. “Still, it’s unfair that Thor gets all the praise and you get _nothing_.”

 

“Why should I get anything?” Loki sounded genuinely curious now. “I don’t do anything, Anthony. I spread chaos through your realm,” he mused then, “if that is what makes me worthy of a reward … maybe I should so it more often then.”

Anthony laughed, grabbed for Loki’s wrist and hold it in his grip. “I’m serious, Loki. I don’t see Thor do anything and yet he gets all the praise and our love.” Loki winced.

“For doing _nothing_ ,” Anthony repeated and stared into Loki’s eyes. “ _You_ were the one who saved me from a slit throat. You were the one who listened to my prayer and came down. It was not Thor, although he could – and should have done the same.”

“I only saved you because you didn’t give up.” Loki whispered as if afraid Anthony might run away from Loki’s admission. “You stared your captors down, _mocked them_ for holding you as their slave. You impressed me, Anthony. That’s why I saved you.”

 

“And not because I chose you, Loki? Not because I bear your mark above my heart and I was ready to have my blood spilled for you?”

 

Anthony saw the moment Loki’s gaze became heated and focused on his mark.

It made Anthony wonder how it would feel like to have Loki’s gaze completely on him, not just the marks. He preened beneath the gaze, raised his hand and touched the mark.

He was Loki’s. He saw his trickster lick his lips and he wondered how they would feel on his, would they feel soft, or more chafed from all the nibbling Loki did?

“That was another reason,” Loki admitted, gaze still fixed on the runes.

 

Should he stop wearing tunics? Or start to wear ones with a lower neckline so the runes would only be barely covered, tease Loki with it?

He swallowed drily. How tempting it must be, to know Loki’s mark of possession was right _there_ and he’d only need to pull the tunic down a slight bit more.

“Loki,” he said hoarsely, “I need a new attire.”

 

~*~

 

Loki _adored_ the new tunics.

When Anthony came from the shower – oh glorious thing; a towel slang around his hips and he was about to put on one of his new tunics (green, _un_ fortunately the tailor didn’t have any other colours), he became aware of a tingling sensation in his back.

Automatically, he stood straighter, pulled his shoulders back and flaunted his backside to his divine admirer.

He imaged how Loki stood there in his door, let his gaze wander slowly down from Anthony’s neck to his back, to the towel, hiding his arse, to his thighs and wondered, if Loki liked the view.

If he looked good in Loki’s eyes.

A smirk played on Anthony’s lips. He wasn’t what one considered insecure or self-conscious. More the opposite. He knew how to set his body in scene, to get what he wanted.

And Anthony started to want and _desire_ Loki.

 

His Loki, his soft and loving Loki. He wanted those pale hands on his body, everywhere, not just above his heart; he wanted those hands to explore him, to tease and to play with him.

Slowly he let the tunic drop over himself, covering him from Loki’s burning gaze. Yet Anthony wished Loki would enter his room, press himself against him and place kisses on his neck.

His knees felt weak when he thought about that long body, covering his.

 

He started his hunt for Loki. When they cuddled on the couch, Anthony often turned his head, pressed small kisses on Loki’s cheek, gauging his reaction carefully. He didn’t want to overstep invisible bounds Loki had set.

But he didn’t get warned off. Instead, Loki’s hands seemed to linger longer than necessary on him. When Anthony started to touch Loki more often and more casually, Loki often seemed to hold his breath until he melted into Anthony’s touch.

There were moments where Anthony thought Loki was going to kiss him, right there on the spot.

And in the beginning Anthony feared as much as he desired that outcome. Yes, he didn’t mind touches and kissing Loki on the cheek, seeing his trickster nearly blush because of delight and pleasure. He was afraid Loki might regret doing it. And he did not want that.

Loki was a lonesome soul. Anthony wanted to be more than just the next best thing on the menu. He wanted Loki to become his, as much as he was Loki’s. He wanted desire to have the chance to become _more_ , something better and something worthy of them both.

 

No, he didn’t consider such an act blasphemy, fancying a god to be in love with a mortal. It was just a natural desire to have it be so.

But the fear started to evaporate, like Anthony’s small desire to go home was. Home was no longer the place where he was born and raised, where he would be forced to take up arms and make them all stronger, invincible in their foolish dreams. Home wasn’t Asgard where gods walked around, parading their weapons about and telling everybody of their latest mightiest deed.

Home was Loki’s room. It smelled of Loki and Anthony, he felt _safe_ there and he had the books in there, food got delivered and they could lose themselves in their studies.

That was home.

 

And wherever home was, Anthony’s heart felt it was safe to say “ _Now_ we can,” and he knew he was ready to open his heart to Loki for more than just their friendship, as treasured as it was.

Loki seemed to brighten up more and more when Anthony told him about his most recent idea, suggestions, what they could discover next _together_. His hands lingered, as did his heated gaze and Anthony was sure, Loki was ready to feel the same thing.

There would be no uncertainty when the next step came, no hesitation that the other wasn’t ready or didn’t feel the same thing.

Anthony stroked over his runes. He had started to touch them more often in the last time, particularly when Loki wasn’t there to do it. It bonded him to Loki and it felt good, it had become a natural thing.

 

~*~

 

Maybe, he thought with a smile while waiting for Loki to come back to their rooms, he should ask Loki to add more. Add more of his name, burn them into his skin. Oh, Anthony wanted, _craved_ that sensation even.

He was lost in his thoughts, wondering where Loki’s runes would look good on him— everywhere, he was the greatest canvas ever to exist— when Loki stormed into their rooms, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Anthony,” he gritted out and Anthony swore he saw Loki’s seidr dancing around his fingers, looking like small, green and angry lightnings. “I’m in my room for the rest of the day, please, don’t wait up for me.” And with that, Loki was off.

 

It left Anthony unsettled. Of course, he knew Loki could get angry, be angered by others, and—  

But why would Loki go and leave him behind?

Loki must know he didn’t mind his anger, his rage. Not, when Anthony had tried desperately like a fool to coax exactly this side out from Loki, to have his angry god next to him.

But maybe Loki did that, as not to scare him off?

 

They had never talked about their first meeting, and how _good_ it had made him feel.

He put the book down. Stood up, walked to his room. He had a plan. He’d shower until he didn’t smell like the sweat of thinking old men, more like the fresh rain and of pines anymore. Then he’d put on the one dark green tunic that had never failed to elicit a response from Loki. Wearing that one always made Loki gulp drily, never let his gaze wander too far off from Anthony, play with the lacing on the front, always just about to undo it to see his name on Anthony’s skin.

Walking in Loki’s room like that was no hardship. It was easy and Anthony was sure of the response he’d got for wearing that.

His stomach tumbled happily in anticipation and he wore the broadest grin on his face.

Loki laid on his bed, not bothering to lift his arm from his face, hiding from the world— and from Anthony.

Quietly Anthony sat down on the bed, next to Loki, waiting for a sign that he was either welcome here, or should better leave.

Loki moved a bit over, lifted the arm and looked at Anthony.

 

“Hey,” he whispered hoarsely, letting his gaze drop from his face to his tunic, swallowing heavily, biting his lip unconsciously.

“Hey,” Anthony replied then stretched out next to Loki on the bed. He used his arm as a pillow for his head, put a hand on Loki’s stomach, entwined their legs.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Anthony said as soft as he could. Seeing Loki so relaxed was … he liked it. He wanted to see him like that more often. Open to him and the world, not hiding beneath his helmet how he felt. “Never hide from me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

 

“Loki,” he whispered, pressed a light kiss to his god’s cheek. “You can always bother me.” He saw Loki’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath quickening. “Never hide from me.”

Loki nodded, eyes still closed. “I won’t.”

They laid there for minutes, hours, perhaps. It didn’t matter to Anthony. It was important that Loki seemed to have calmed down finally.

 

“What happened?”

Loki sighed. “The usual. The council won’t hear what I have to say, the All-father looks to Thor for council instead to prepare him for his future role and Thor looks to his hammer, imagining already the glory he will bring to Asgard.”

“Sounds stressful.”

“It was.” Loki huffed, turned his head around to see Anthony in the eyes. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to speak. It seems hopeless and nobody _listens_.”

“Because you are too good, Loki.” He smiled. “You care and they don’t. That’s the problem with Asgard. With you gods. While one cares possibly too much, the others don’t care at all, or about matters that aren’t important. A tax for goats is ridiculous and yet-“

 

“They fought about it for _weeks_ ,” Loki groaned and rolled his eyes. “Weeks, Anthony. The last time the Thing fought about something for that period they waged if it was a good decision to declare war on Jotunheim or not.”

 

Anthony snuggled closer to Loki, tugging gently at the tunic. “What else happened?”

And Loki opened up. It was as if a dam had been broken, words flew from Loki’s mouth faster than a dagger could fly and Anthony sat there, taking them all in. He nodded at the right parts, squeezed Loki’s hand tenderly that somehow found its way to his.

It could always be like this, he realised. Just them both, laying here on Loki’s bed, talking and listening to each other, reporting of their exhausting day and who made them angry this time. It felt lovely.

It made him smile.

And when Loki had ran out of words, was out of breath, flushed from leaving the steam off Anthony thought, that Loki looked beautiful. Ethereal, even. But at the same time like a human, showing his emotions and letting them bleed through, letting all masks drop that had been there for too long now.

He saw that Loki only did that because he _trusted_ him. Nobody else would be allowed to see Loki in such a vulnerable state, so open, so amiable to him.

 

It was the right time. He knew it.

 

He leant up, looked Loki in the eyes and upon seeing his own desire, his own blatant _want_ reflected in them, he pressed his lips gently to Loki’s.

They were thin and felt cool compared to his. And yet, it was the perfect mixture. It was better than waking up and seeing Asgard; it was Valhalla in their bed. Loki’s cold hands touched his face gingerly, stroking over his cheek while his lips parted beneath Anthony’s. It was homecoming, just better. It was waking up to see Loki waiting for him, it was lips sucking on his. It was all Anthony felt for Loki pouring into the kiss and promises for more.

It was their first meeting just this time, there was no need for blood to be shed. It was Loki’s promises, repeated and remembered as their tongues met and Anthony let his hands discover the pale body beneath a tunic, grounding him.

Soft whimpers and groans fell and were heard, yet Anthony couldn’t say which belonged to whom as clothes got discarded and he had to curse the fact that Loki could hold longer his breath than he.  

“Anthony,” he heard Loki whisper against his lips. He smiled, dropped his head contentedly to Loki’s neck, adoring the soft skin there, worshipping it with his teeth and lips. This was bliss or close to it. It was good and was how it was meant to be.

 

“My Anthony.”

 

He moaned, hearing that, grounded his hips against Loki. “Loki,” he whispered, sucked on a spot on the neck harder. He felt his god shudder beneath him. That was good, it made him feel good. He licked the abused spot, hearing Loki stutter for air.

His runes tingled, satisfied, having Loki so close to them. They were like his personal Loki-finder, always pointing to him out where his god was and more often than not, leading him to Loki.

Hands came up to scratch gently over his scalp. Anthony purred in satisfaction.

 

“I’ve wanted you here for ages now,” Loki admitted and started to stroke over his back. Anthony giggled, amused and satisfied at the same time. He felt Loki press a kiss to his hair. “There were times I barely could hold myself back from taking you in my arms and kissing you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Anthony raised his head, a smile on his face as he looked at his god.

“Because I wasn’t sure you wanted it,” Loki mused and sat up on his elbows. “There were times where you seemed to be scared, more than anything. And I thought it would be best to just let you do your thing until you picked up enough courage to finally do it.”

“I was,” Anthony admitted with a shrug. It didn’t seem like a big thing to admit to Loki. “I was scared this might burn us down and end us.”

“Understandable,” Loki said with a smile.

They kissed again, this time more trying out what the other liked about kissing and what not.

The marks on Loki’s throat were bright red and filled Anthony with pride, seeing his mark on Loki. He just regretted that they probably wouldn’t stay there for long.

 

He kissed his way down Loki’s body, enjoying every moan he could pull out from Loki, taking them as his reward. He nuzzled the growing bulge.

“Anthony,” he heard Loki whimper.

 

Grinning, he looked up. “Yes?”

As he received no reply, just Loki glaring at him and his hips buckling, Anthony ignored the bulge. Wasn’t important to Loki apparently. Instead, he played with Loki’s nipples, bit one slightly while teasing the other with his hand.

Loki turned into a shivering, groaning mess beneath him. His own pants started to feel too small, too tight to wear any longer.

“Pants off?”

“You know,” Loki groaned, “that’s the best idea I’ve heard today.” And with a wave of his hand their pants were gone. Anthony instantly pressed his groin down, creating a delicious friction, making them both moan.

Loki pulled him into a searing kiss, one that made his toes curl in utter pleasure. Hands wandered down his body, grabbing his arse, squeezing it appreciatively.

 

Anthony just felt better with each kiss they exchanged, nails digging in his back as he nibbled on Loki’s ears. Hands softly threaded through his hair when he _finally_ decided to release Loki and paid attention to his cock, lavishing it with utmost concentration and pleasure. It made him feel powerful, reducing Loki more and more to a rambling mess.

He didn’t mind doing most part of the job, he genuinely enjoyed worshipping Loki, treating him with tender touches and open-mouthed kisses when he felt like there wasn’t enough air anymore in the room, it all became hot in here, he felt like he could taste the tension.

When he pulled back, Loki encouraged him up his body. They kissed and Loki’s fingers slid over his ass and breached him carefully. Loki preparing him was one of the delightful things Anthony ever felt. It turned him into the rambling mess Loki had been, only mewling with pleasure, pressing back against the hand as much as he could, chasing the sensation, wanting more of it.

He was aware of Loki whispering in his ear how good he looked, but his mind was focused on the fingers, brushing his inner walls until he found what he’d been looking for, making Anthony groan and whimper more than ever before.

“Please,” he breathed against Loki’s lips before claiming them shortly as the fingers thrusted into him steadily, taking his breath away even more. He needed more of Loki.

Feeling Loki’s cock inside him felt somehow even _better_ and having Loki beneath him, there to bite in his soft skin, marking him as his made it perfect. His thoughts turned into a muddle of nothingness, as everything lost its meaning except for Loki and him being one, giving pleasure as much as receiving it.

 

Loki’s name fell from his lips as if it was the only thing that hold meaning, trying to portray what he felt, what he wanted, what he wanted to give with those four letters. And Loki held his gaze as much as he could while losing himself in the moment.

It was more than Anthony could’ve hoped for.

They were both vulnerable and yet strong.

Loki sat up, making his cock go even deeper, claiming Anthony even more from the inside. His mark tingled in highest pleasure when Loki kissed it, letter for letter while Anthony threaded his hands through Loki’s hair, tugging at strands, eliciting even more moans from his beloved god.

“My Anthony,” he heard Loki whisper against his skin and he shuddered in delight. It made him groan in more than just pleasure, he couldn’t name the feeling (when his head was clearer maybe) but he wanted more of it.

“More,” he said, pulling Loki’s head up, closing his eyes in delight as Loki’s cock stroked over his prostate. “God,” he whispered, kissing him as if there was no tomorrow.

“Of what?” his god asked bedazzled, stroking his sides.

“Your mark.” Anthony grinned. “I want more of it.”

“Where?” And he felt Loki tremble in excitement, caused his pupils to widen so dramatically that the green ring nearly wasn’t visible anymore.

 

When he whispered: “Wherever you want it.” Loki gasped, kissed him more thoroughly than before.

It didn’t take long after that to reach their climax.

Kisses were exchanged and more words of promises were exchanged, hands were held and last moans were heard.  

Anthony cuddled in Loki’s arms, seeking his coolness against his own hot skin and sighed in content.

He was right where he belonged. And he wouldn’t leave Loki’s bed in the foreseeable future, no.

 

~*~

 

From that moment on, Anthony refused to go back to his room, sleeping alone on his bed. He didn’t see a convincing reason _why_ he should do it.

Loki’s bed was larger, the blankets there felt better on him. Also, Loki was there. And Anthony learned pretty fast that Loki was the best pillow on Asgard.

They could retire together at night, no need to wish each other goodnight just yet and could continue to talk about their day or philander more. There were evenings when they explored their bodies, made the other see stars or tease them until the world outside faded and disappeared.

There were no more questions, no more second-guessing if this was right. Anthony was sure that this was the right path, that their relationship only could grow brighter from that point on and nothing would separate them.

But no more runes had been added to his other yet. Loki had told him he wanted to do it when they were alone for themselves, preferable off Asgard so no one could bother them.

 

Claiming Anthony once more as his, decorating him with his name was an honour he did not want to treat lightly. He could barely remember giving him the other, being caught in his bloodthirst, and the second time was supposed to be perfect for them.

Anthony didn’t really like it, but he understood.

They talked about it during dinner when the sun went down, bathed them in her golden light and spots where the mark could be were discussed, as well as the method.

Eventually they settled for Anthony’s outer-top of his left thigh, a spot where only they both would see it preferably. It was supposedly less likely to hurt there, too. Not, that it mattered too much to Anthony but Loki refused to see him in more pain than necessary, wanting the memory to be a good one, not a painful one.

Seeing his lover become so worried made Anthony agree to it. It was more to Loki’s benefit than his but that was okay. He wanted the memory to be a nice one for them both, not just for himself.

 

It was weeks later when Loki came into their rooms, a grin on his face and told him to pack his bag, they were going on a trip – his mother had arranged for him to be a week free of all responsibilities, Thor would take over his tasks for the time, he’d need all exercise he could get to become a great king someday.

There was a house on Alfheim, hidden from all too curious eyes by Loki’s wards. He had bought it in his early days as adult, wanting a home he could retreat to should Thor ever annoy him too much or his status as prince ask more of him than he was ready to give. Loki had been afraid of just breaking together because he disappointed everybody he considered as important and the option of just leaving, to get a rest in between …

Everything spoke for it, nothing against.

That evening Anthony trembled in anticipation. His fingers clenched and he cursed time for not moving more quickly.

 

When Loki _finally_ set the dagger against his thigh, telling him how amazing he was, Anthony only could only grin and lean back against the pillows, holding Loki’s gaze steadily.

He bit his lips when the dagger carved the first rune into his skin, tearing him open. He didn’t mind. He encouraged Loki to continue, wanting his mark finally on his skin one more time. Loki kissed him hotly, distracting him from the pain as blood ran down his thigh, over Loki’s hand.

Anthony saw how his lover’s eyes glowed up green when he noticed the blood, saw his breathe hitch for several moments and he knew he had made the right decision with trusting Loki and waiting for this.

Endorphins claimed his brain, and pleasure shot through him.

Loki whispered more comforting words against his lips, told him how perfect he was for him and how proud it made Loki, to see Anthony bearing his mark. It was more than enough and Anthony didn’t want it to end. His pulse quickened, he could hear his blood rushing through his veins and his body seemed to hum in pleasure. Around the third rune it became too much for him, his body shut down and he passed out. He trusted his god to finish his task, marking him.

 

He woke up when stars were blinking outside and Alfheim’s moons stood high in the sky. His thigh hurt, burned quite a bit but he didn’t mind at all, as he felt lips pressing soft kisses against his forehead and arms encircling him.

 

“Loki?”

“Mhm,” his god replied.

He opened his eyes, Loki’s face was only centimetres from his away.

“Hey,” he mumbled, stretched and kissed him gently. “Did you finish the mark?”

“Yes.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward and a cold hand stroke tenderly over his thigh. “It looks beautiful on you.”

Anthony looked down, wanting to see the mark for himself.

It were the same runes as above his heart, just bigger and _better_ somehow.

He touched them in astonishment, not understanding yet that they had done it, that he got another mark of Loki.

“Thank you,” he breathed and kissed his lover softly.

 

They did that for a while. There was no hurry to be had, they had time for themselves, nobody would interrupt them here.

“Anthony?” Loki asked eventually, as the burn settled down, became a faint tingling.

“Yes?” he whispered.

Loki bit on his lip, then sat up, following him to do the same. Shrugging he complied.

“You’ve been with me for two years now,” Loki started, his eyes boring into Anthony’s.  He swallowed. Two years? It didn’t feel like that. It only felt perhaps like … eight months? At the most?

“Would you consider staying with me for longer?” Loki held out a golden apple to him, conjuring it up out of the nowhere apparently with green sparks of his seidr. “You don’t have to decide now, obviously,” Loki rambled on, flushing slightly, looking down on the apple.

“Loki,” Anthony said softly, interrupting him in his adorable rambling.

“Yes?”

 

He smiled at Loki, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He didn’t need to think about his answer, it was already clear to him what it was. He saw hope gleaming up in Loki’s eyes. It was an adorable look on his trickster, the gleaming eyes, tousled hair. He saw how Loki’s hand started to tremble and he decided to release him from his waiting state.

“I’d love to spend more time with you,” he said and with that, he took the apple from Loki’s palm, bit into it, revelled in the taste of the apple. It tasted better than anything else. Nothing on his dinner plate would ever compare to this, it was just too good. Sweet and juicy, a hint of bliss.

He hadn’t expected this offer. But being able to spend more time with Loki sounded wonderful to his ears. Never would he receive a gift from his lover, not when it meant seeing him grin to that extend. It was … well, life was just amazing.

 

And being gifted with more time to spend with Loki also meant more time to convince Loki to paint more runes on him.

He ate everything, the core and stem included – he didn’t want to waste a single bit. He licked his lips, already mourning the taste of the apple then kissed Loki again, trying to thank him for that wonderful gift with that kiss. He was excited to see what the future hold ready for them and if perhaps one day he would mark Loki with his own name.

But that didn’t hurry.

 

They had eternity, and they could take their time now.

  



End file.
